This Hope is Ours
by Girl-Who-Ran-With-Wolves
Summary: {AU} I never wanted to be a werewolf.A lot of the time, it can get you killed in some really awful, nasty ways.This is the one where I join a pack and get caught up with not only vengeful hunters but also another shapeshifter that risks exposing us all. I've never fit in but here i have family.and I'm not about to loose it this easily. Isaac/OC,established Sterek,Scallison,Berica.
1. 1:How to Win Friends & Influence Wolves

**Hey, guys, so this is my OC teen wolf story - my third one - but this one is a little different from the others.  
**

_Look, I never wanted to be a werewolf. A lot of the time, it can get you killed in some really awful, nasty ways but when I was bitten, I couldn't exactly turn around and say "hey, can you respect my personal space, please?" This is the one where I join a werewolf pack and get caught up with not only a vengeful huntress but also another shapeshifter that risks exposing us all. But not everything adds up. Could something bigger be going on and if so, just what is happening in this town?  
_

_ I moved to Beacon Hills to get away from werewolf drama, but I might have just stepped out of the eye of the storm and into the hurricane._

**Claire de Lune isn't your ordinary werewolf. Attacked at the age of seven, no one thought she would survive. Against all odds, she managed it but only scarcely. As you can guess, the life of an omega is pretty hectic and after transferring from school to school either by losing control of her powers or being chased out by rival packs: Claire has never had a single place where she's fit in.  
**

**Until she moves to Beacon Hills and is given an ultimatum, join the Hale pack or die. Although she feels like a prisoner at first, she soon warms to the pack members - a charismatic group of social misfits like herself who say they only want to help; finally, she feels she has found family but when a dangerous new creature threatens her newfound peace, she will stop at nothing to protect those she loves, even if it means putting her own life at risk.  
**

* * *

Look, I never wanted to be a werewolf.  
It's brutal, scary and downright dangerous. I mean, besides the hunters that'll chase you around the globe, there's always other packs' to think about – other werewolves that don't take too kindly to omegas on their territory. A lot of the time, it can get you killed in some painful, messy ways but when I was bitten, I couldn't exactly turn around and say: "hey, can you respect my personal space, please?"  
If you're an omega (a lone wolf) like me, my advice to you would be to shut this book right now and never get involved in any of this or find yourself a pack and soon because something bad is coming. Something that will affect us all.  
You should be okay but if you begin to recognize these pages and think you're one of us. Run, because there is nowhere on Earth safe for you now.  
If you're a normal kid reading this because you think it's a piece of fiction, then great. I envy you for your ability to look at our world and see a story. Well technically it is a story, my story plus few other stories of my new friends. I could start anywhere in my miserable existence to begin our tale but maybe I should begin with when I moved to Beacons Hills.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

Mom was fusing with my hair. I swatted her hand away, trying not to seem ungrateful but at the same time trying to get her to stop trying to braid it. To me, having the long brown waves fluttering in front of my face was fine by me. My mom on the other hand thought it was unruly and made me look like a delinquent – which I suppose I kind of was. When you're a werewolf, chaos seems to follow you around like a lost puppy only not so cute. I'd been forced out of two towns because of werewolves packs and been kicked out of five different schools in two years. I had never had order, not since I was attacked whilst hiking in Yellowstone when I was seven with my dad. The memory still brought unsettled agony to the surface but I managed to push it back down with all my might.  
"Mom," I told her firmly, "I look fine. Really. I'll be better here…I promise." My voice cracked slightly on the last two words. I knew I had no right to go around using those words – not after my track record. Maybe I'd strike lucky in Beacon Hills. I had in Penance, Ohio. I'd been in the school for almost a year before I'd been driven out by a bunch of bible-bashing werewolves who thought they were messengers of God.

My mom eyed me warily, taking in my outfit. I was wearing a graphic t-shirt under a red hoodie and blue jeans with Converse. To me, I looked fine – just your average girl with locks of dark brown hair and stormy grey eyes dressed up for a day of boring school. Eventually, she cracked a smile. I knew she wanted this to work and I felt ashamed for putting her through all this crap. She really was trying her best with me, even if she knew of my lycanthropic tendencies. She'd known about a month after the attack what I'd become, when I'd tried to rip her throat out with my blunt incisors. She hadn't known what to do, of course. I mean, it wasn't like there was a Werewolf 101 class or anything to deal with this. Werewolf attacks were extremely rare because omegas usually died if they didn't have anyone to guide them through the transition. But I wasn't your usual omega.  
_Graceful as a butterfly, _my dad's rich Southern voice rang in my ears, _lethal as a hornet. You're a de Lune, my dear. You're a fighter. _I had never understood this until recently. Why my dad had told me this growing up perplexed me but now I finally for the message. I had the de Lune blood in me. It meant I was going to survive this, even if it destroyed me.

So, eventually my mum had found someone who could help. Abe Lancaster, a veteran werewolf who served two terms in Iraq back in the day. He'd trained me up, taught me how to control my impulses but there was always one thing I struggled with and that was anger. I could rein it in most of the time, but when I really got angry – well, it never ended well. After six months of intensive training, Abe had offered to make him part of his pack. It had meant settling down in New Orleans, maybe a bit of stability for a while but it meant my mom had to leave and I couldn't do that to her.

"You have my number, sweetheart," my mom said, standing on her tip-toes to kiss me. I had just outgrown the small woman last July when I'd added two inches to my height. Now she had to practically jump to peck my cheek, "If anything happens, just call me. Try to stay out of trouble. I know – I know it's hard… but please, do try."  
I snatched up my house keys from the dresser in the hall and fluffed my hair one last time in front of the mirror before shouting, "Bye mom!" over my shoulder.  
"Be good, honey," I didn't catch the rest of what she said because the door slammed shut behind me. I padded down the front porch of the quaint house, tucked away into a more secluded part of the town and made my way down the road to wait for the bus.

Pulling my hood over my head against the onslaught of rain, I waited until the hideous yellow thing slid into view. It was painted the color of mustard and repulsed my senses, even without the added advantage of the enhanced sight, sound and smell. Racist graffiti was scratched into the back of it that someone hadn't bothered to clean up. God, I hated the bus. Most kids at my last school had avoided it like the plague, me included but that was only because I had been banned for blowing one up on a field trip (it was one little canon ball and I hadn't even been aiming for it anyway). Anyone who had a shred of dignity found some way to wriggle out of it, but unfortunately for me I had no other option.  
The doors slid open for me and I hopped on, glancing around the lower deck for a spare seat. No one paid me much attention; they were too engrossed in whatever they were doing on their cells to stop just to glare at the new girl. Those that did notice me either looked up and dispelled me quickly or began indiscreetly whispering behind their hands. I caught snippets of conversation like, "Woah. Loser alert." Or "Check out new freak over there."

Sometimes being new really sucked.

Eventually, I spotted a spare seat next to the window. The guy – probably a freshman by the looks of him – stood up so I could slide in. I smiled with forced gratitude as I flung myself into the seat and pulled out my IPod. I snuggled my headphones into my ears so I could zone out the gossips for a while. For half the ride to school, I had to put up with harsh speed bumps that panged through the seats and made my legs scream in painful complaint. That's one thing people tend to overlook about werewolves. Sure, we heal from pretty much anything but like our senses, pain is amplified, too. I also had to put up with a bunch of shrieking seniors who kept throwing wads of tuna sandwich at the kindly boy next to me which occasionally missed him and hit me instead, much to my disgust and their amusement. It smelled like moldy fish, as if someone had kept it in the sun for a week, "Ugh!" I exclaimed, wiping the horrible thing off me. It only made them shriek with laughter. "That's it." I muttered to myself. I was about to get up, ripping my earphones from my head when the freshman's voice stopped me. "No, it's okay," he said calmly, "I like tuna."  
I stared down at him in absolute astonishment. I couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't want to fly at them for what they'd just been doing but I reeled in my rage and sat back down. Injustice grinded my gears. I hated bullies, despised them even. What right did they have to make someone else feel like crap?  
The bus pulled to a stop a couple of blocks later and the boy took the opportunity to slip away from the seniors whilst they were distracted. I pushed my bag onto the seat next to me for a moment as I slipped my IPod back into it. I pushed the satchel to the floor once more and waited for the bus to set off again. A sophomore around my age sat next to me. He was kind of geeky with a shock of blonde hair slicked back and small glasses that slipped down his nose. "Get up." A rough voice said a moment later. At first, I thought they were speaking to me so I snapped my head around to the sound of how furious it sounded.  
Some jock in black leathers stood in front of us threateningly. He had side-swept curling brown hair but it was sort of tawny colored, as if it couldn't decide to be blonde or brown. His eyes were this weird color of blue, almost as transparent as water. "Can't you find another seat, man-?" the sophomore asked half-heartedly but he seemed to be withering under this kid's glare. A familiar sense of anger started to rip at me.  
"Let me try again," blue-eyes said, this time I could practically feel the hate radiating from him as if it was an actual thing. "Either you get up or I pull your spine out through your mouth, four-eyes."  
"Hey!" I snapped suddenly, "Quite being such an asshole!"  
His eyes met mine and it was like a virtual slap in the face. I was hit by an overwhelming wave of recognition even though I had never seen this kid before. It was the same as all the other places, that tugging sense of belonging and I knew I was screwed. His eyes glinted amber slightly, luckily not fully though and the kid presumably didn't see anything as he slid away and blue-eyes slid down next to me.  
"Look," I said, suddenly becoming very uncomfortable, "I don't want any trouble, okay? I just got here. I – I'll leave you alone, I promise."  
He seemed a little taken aback by my clear panic, "What are you talking about?" he gave me a curious look, "You didn't do anything."  
I frowned at him, "Oh my god," I said very slowly as my eyes widened in realization, "Your new at this, aren't you? You don't know."  
"What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped.  
"You – you have a pack, but you haven't been told everything…" I pondered this for a moment, "You don't know about what they do. To Omegas."  
"Omega?" he echoed, his voice drowning to a whisper so not to be overheard by prying ears, "You're an omega?"  
I bit my lip, considered lying. It might save me if I did. If his pack found out about me…I'd be back on the road with my mom transferring to some other school. I couldn't let that happen but at the same time – I felt so angry. At being treated like some kind of outcast. I wanted to make a home here, and I wasn't about to be driven out. "Yeah, I am and you can tell your stupid Alpha that I'm not going anywhere so just… go die!" I finished lamely. I shoved past him as I watched his face cloud with confusion. I threw myself down the steps of the bus and out into the open air of the school parking lot. Thousands of teens swarmed the steps of Beacon Hills High as I made my way forward, stalking through the halls until I eventually found the deputy head.

* * *

I knocked lightly on the door and he asked politely for me to enter. I shuffled in, arching my back in an attempt not to seem like an unconfident shut-in or "delinquent" as my mom called me though it was hard not to drag my feet and act like I was actually enjoying my first day at a new school so far. "You must be Claire," the man said with a proud smile. The plaque on his desk proclaimed he was Mr. Meyers and had two small children judging by the family portraits angled towards me slightly. He reached out his hand for me to shake and I took it getting a waft of coffee, cheap cologne and the stagnant smell of whiskey. "I'm Mr. Meyers. You're probably looking for your timetable. I'll have my assistant fax it through."  
"Thanks," I said awkwardly, "So… A teacher told me that you would be doing my – um – orientation. Miss Swtkcho- Swtchkowit-"  
"Miss Swotchokwitz?" he asked me with sympathetic smile.  
I nodded with gratitude, "Yeah," I replied.  
"I will be taking you to your first lesson but the floor plan should tell you where else to go." I felt relieved. Maybe I could retain a little shred of street cred after all.

Meyers handed me my floor plan and let me borrow the appropriate books for the day before he led me to my first lesson. My heart was thudding almost unbearably loudly when I reached the door of the Chem lab. It crept open and Meyers sped in, pulling me with him. "Class," he announced and I almost cringed, "We have a new student. This is Claire de Lune. I'm sure you'll all make her feel very welcome." All the kids were staring at me. I knew this routine, they were sizing me up. I'd been through enough of this at my other schools to know.  
So naturally as soon as I stepped over threshold I tripped over my own feet with nervousness and made a complete fool of myself. There were some snickering around the classroom but no one said anything. A bored looking man in his mid-thirties smiled at me sarcastically, "Miss de Lune, you may take a seat… next to Isaac please." I glanced in the direction he was motioning to and almost audibly groaned. It was blue-eyes from the bus.  
His eyes were full of mocking glee as I pulled out my borrowed Chem book and my notepad, "You again." he grinned devilishly. I only gave him the cold shoulder. This was going to be hell. "This is going to be fun."  
"Yep, I'm ecstatic to see you, too," I said in an irritated tone, "Still terrorizing freshman?" I tried to concentrate on not snapping my pen with the overwhelming sense of anger. I didn't know what was wrong with me; I just got so furious sometimes. In freshman year I had been thrown out of anger management for being too angry for the councilor to handle. Now I just solved my problems by punching people who annoyed me, which wasn't exactly the greatest solution to my issues but at least it made me feel better.  
"I like to think of it as keeping them in line," he retorted turning his attention to the front of the class. I tried my best to ignore the boy but as predicted he was soon trying to get me to indulge him. "So, what brings you to Beacon Hills, Claire De Lune?"  
"Oh you know, just the usual stuff," I replied sarcastically. "I set fire to my history room before I broke four windows. Nothing big or anything."  
I kept my eyes purposefully fixed on my notes. I just had to get through this week and then I would have the weekend to do whatever the hell I wanted. Isaac laughed beside me, "I like you," he finally announced, "You're…different."  
"Thanks." I spat harshly.  
"Different isn't always bad you know."  
"It is when you're-" I stopped myself, glancing around the room cautiously, "When you're a WW."  
"A werewolf?" he asked a little too loudly.  
I slapped his arm, "Keep your voice down!" I scolded.  
He just shrugged, "Not for me."  
"You have a pack," I told him bitterly, "Life is probably all unicorns and rainbows for you. But for me it's life or death, so just stay the hell away from me."  
When class ended I pushed up abruptly from my seat and slunk out the classroom, so full of anger I could have ripped someone's head clean off their shoulders right then and there.

* * *

**SCOTT**

The first thing I noticed about the new girl was her striking silver eyes. They were what gave her a menacing quality. She looked brittle enough that you'd be able to snap her wrist just by poking it but somehow the eyes were the warning flashes that she was not everything she appeared. "You're sure she's a werewolf?" Scott prompted, taking a cautious sniff of the air. His senses relayed a similar message but he couldn't completely place it. Something about her didn't smell right, something he was having trouble placing.  
"Absolutely," Isaac told us from the vantage point we were on the stairs. "She told me she was an omega, so she knows at least that much."  
"Oh man," Stiles said warily, "This could either be bad or catastrophic. Either way though….what are you gunna say to Derek?"  
"I don't know yet," Isaac replied, glaring at the girl who was currently trying to prize open her locker and failing. She didn't look strong enough to pick up a pencil, never mind working out the trick to opening one of the cursed lockers in the school. She wasn't too small but the height did nothing for. It made her look skinny and pale. Her olive skin had turned the color of clay from the stress of the day and she was currently trying to juggle four textbooks, a satchel, her lunch _and _trying to jimmy the lock. She did not look at all happy. "It feels like she's telling the truth," continued Isaac, "She looked scared on that bus today, Scott. Like, practically terrified."  
Stiles sneered, "You have that effect on most women, though." This prompted a growl from the taller boy.  
"Let's not involve Derek," I finally deduced, shooting a warning look at the boy whose loyalties I still doubted, "Let's get to know her first."  
Isaac lips curled into a smile, "Gladly."  
Scott smirked at him, "Calm down, beta boy."  
"She might be here for a specific reason – I don't know," Stiles offered, "Scouting for another pack?"  
"Maybe," I replied, my mind trying to think of what could have brought her here, especially at a time like this when everything was going awry. "But she told you she was an omega. I don't think someone would lie about that. I mean, are werewolves stronger in a pack? Why would she lie about being weaker?"  
Isaac only shrugged, "Dunno," he finally said, "Maybe she's trying to throw us off the trail…?"  
"Look, we've got the Kanima to worry about," Stiles breathed, "I'm sure one little omega isn't going to tip the balance."

If only Stiles knew how wrong he had been.

* * *

**CLAIRE**

The day passed uneventfully, though I hated it. People whispered about me in the halls, trying to work out where I'd come from, what I was doing in such a small town. Wild theories flew around classrooms, catching like wildfire. Some actually knew I had been kicked out of my last few schools and avoided me like the plague. Others thought I was probably some daughter of a congressman or business owner, which was why I lived far out in a more secluded area of town, away from the prying eyes of photographers. Most were unanimous in deciding I was probably some drifter who'd be here for a couple of months before an abrupt departure. It probably wasn't far from the truth.  
Jerks from the popular clique shoved into me more frequently and I shoved them right back. I knew this routine. They were deciding if I was an easy target, or a force to be reckoned with. So far, I was passing the stuck-up test with flying colors. People thought I was being a bitch – no pun intended – because I was blanking them and refusing to sit with them if they offered. It wasn't that. They were probably really nice people; only I didn't do socializing well and hated making bonds with people especially considering how much I moved around and the whole werewolf thing. In my nine years of werewolfness, I had divulged my secret to only one but that had been an exception.  
By lunchtime, I went to my locker to dump a few books and my gym kit but nothing was ever just that simple and I spent another five minutes trying to get it open.  
"God damn it!" I dropped my books with a clink on the floor; just preventing myself from wrecking the locker with werewolf strength. A soft feminine laugh sprung into my ears. My head snapped towards the surprising sound as a girl hid her behind a curtain of blonde hair. I glared at her, but strangely my heart wasn't in it. Usually I could hold a death stare for as long as it took but the blonde girl looked ashamed. "Sorry," she said after a moment, closing her locker door. "I – it's just…you have to kick it." She mimed kicking the door but stopped and flushed red.  
I did what she said, restraining myself from totally destroying the battered piece of metal. I had to get my foot up quite high but my flexibility had always been one of my key traits. "Thanks." I said awkwardly as I began to grab for my books currently in a scattered pile at my feet.  
She swayed on her feet for a moment, pushing back a strand of loose ice blonde hair off her face revealing a gleam of intelligent hazel eyes. "Need some help?" she pointed to the books I was currently trying to juggle in my arms.  
"Sure," I said as she bent beside me. She wasn't like the other girls I'd met today. She was shy and if the Doctor Who t-shirt of an ink-splatter tardis was anything to go by then probably bit of a Sci-Fi geek, too. I could feel how uncomfortable she felt, how uncomfortable I was making her feel. Maybe she'd heard some of the rumors flying around about me but as she engaged me in conversation the waves of awkwardness lessened. "I'm Ella. Ella Tremain."  
I felt obliged to reply. "I'm Claire," I said, "Claire de Lune."  
She smiled and the entire room seemed to brighten around her as if her aura alone was affecting everything from the brightness of the bulbs to the moods of the students. "So - um – do you know anyone here?"  
I thought about it. I had met blue-eyes who I sort of knew but I wasn't about to go around blurting that out – especially seeing as this girl looked sweet and the boy I'd met definitely hadn't. "Not really." I replied earnestly, "I just got into town. I don't really – I'm not a people person." I doubted I was even a person anymore.  
Once I'd stuck the mountain of books into my locker, she pulled out her glasses, cleaned them and put them on. They transformed her face, making her look like some kind of sophisticated politician and not a shy sophomore. "You should eat lunch with me," she added hastily, "If you want to. Not many people do."  
I felt my body language soften. It was a new experience for me, dropping my guard, letting someone in. At my old schools I had had some friends to laugh and talk with but the barriers had always been up. With Ella, my defenses seemed useless.  
Why not? I thought, what harm could it do?

If I'd known I'd be involving Ella in this mess, maybe I would have kept my distance. But seeing as I'm not exactly a master of forethought, I followed my new friend towards the canteen.


	2. 2: Caging our Demons

**Thanks for the review :) it really helped. I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to follow, favorite and review. **

* * *

**CLAIRE**

Curiosity. I suppose that's what brought me here to sit with this girl. Apparently, Ella didn't have any other friends. All of hers had moved away and she'd always been too shy to approach anyone until now, "I don't know why…" she began thoughtfully taking a bite of her sandwich, "But you seem kinda cool."  
I didn't really know how to respond to that. No one had ever called me "cool" before, I'd always been so-and-so's new friend or the third wheel. It was a lot to take in, "Thanks," I said eventually; taking a bite out of a slice of damp pizza.  
"How are you finding Beacon Hills so far?" she asked me. _Crap, _I felt like saying. Something about Ella made me feel like it was okay to speak my mind, something I couldn't place. She made me feel safe, which was crazy because I'd only met her just under an hour ago.  
"It's okay," she finally prompted, examining me with inquisitive, cat-like eyes. "You don't have to lie. This place…well, it's not exactly luxury living."  
"It's…nice." I said with a non-committal shrug. I cast my glance around the room at the gathered faces. Most had got over my presence by now but a few were still staring at me and Ella like we just walked off a spaceship. My eyes scanned over them, never lingering too long on a single person until my eyes came to rest on a table tucked away in the corner of the room, "Who are they?" I asked, my eyes widening. I had a feeling I already knew the answer, I could smell them from here.  
"They're the runaways," Ella said. There was nothing in her voice, no wariness or fear or resentment. She didn't sound like she was trying to be nasty about them, just stating a fact. "Erica, Boyd and Isaac. A while back they were all loners. I don't know – they just…changed. Isaac was in trouble for a while. He was a suspect in a murder," A shiver ran through her. "His father. But I knew I couldn't have been true. He was just so nice. Used to open doors for me a lot and help me carry books to my lessons. Now he's a bit of a douche. He's still an outcast, but he doesn't get shoved into lockers anymore. People respect him. As for Erica and Boyd – I don't know much about them really. They kept to themselves. I once ate lunch with them but I kinda felt like the third wheel so I stopped."  
Our eyes met from across the room. I realized I had been staring. I don't know what I expected to see – venomous, accusational looks? Burning hate? All I saw was looks of reluctance and strangely enough, amity. It made me feel a little more positive about them. I had had experience with wolf packs – more than I'd like to remember – but they seemed incredibly different from the ones I'd encountered.  
I shook my head and turned back to her. She was giving me a look. I wasn't really paying attention. I could see them muttering to themselves in my peripheral vision, bellow human hearing level but I still couldn't hear them over the chaos of the cafeteria. "Most people here are close," she explained, taking another bite of her pizza. "Everyone knows each other. People here don't like different," she leaned in closer so I could hear her better, "I think they're scared of it. I mean… scared enough to-" her face became hard and she had a pained look on her face.  
I didn't want to press her. I recognized that look, grief-ridden and agonizing, but I couldn't seem to help myself. "What happened?"  
She looked away and closed her eyes. I gave her all the time she needed, as she breathed in and out. Obviously whatever she was about to tell me was still raw. "About three years ago. I went out of town with my dad – my parents were divorced - it was only supposed to be for a week but we went a bit over. Anyway, when we came back, we found the house had been broken into…"  
I stayed silent, just listening and Ella seemed grateful. I was a good listener now; years of people not letting me express my opinion had made me so. "We went upstairs. We went into the house, but we couldn't find her. I found signs of a struggle in her bedroom and followed the mess into the bathroom. And I found her there – lying in a pool of her own blood." Tears welled up in her eyes and she wiped them away quickly before they steamed up her glasses. "You probably think I'm some kind of freak."  
"No, no," I shook my head firmly. Of course I found it a bit strange she would divulge such a painful memory to me after just an hour in my company, "My dad died when I was little."  
What the hell was I doing? When I had been around twelve I had promised myself never to be one of those people that told their tragic past to every stranger on the bus. But somehow I felt it didn't matter with Ella. That she would let me open up to her without judging her unlike me. I felt ashamed and hung my head. "I'm s-sorry," Ella stammered, "I was being insensitive. Sorry, I'm such a jerk-"  
"You're not," I replied. I was starting to see that Ella apologized for a lot of things that weren't her fault. "And it's okay. It was a long time ago."

After lunch, I had Math. I was in the same class as Ella so I sat behind her. I was also in the same class as two other boys I had seen speaking to Isaac earlier. I cast furtive glances in their direction. The first was a guy with bronze skin and round, chocolate eyes. Not hazel like Ella's but almost black in the luminous of the room. His hair was unruly and he seemed to radiate a certain boyish charm that made him almost likable. Maybe if Isaac was like that, people would warm to him.

And why did I care?

The second boy was less athletic looking and more geeky. He had a buzzcut and pale skin that made him look kind of sickly. He had brown eyes too, but much light, closer to the color of chocolate. They leaned back in their seats, eyes pointedly fixed on me. I knew why, I could smell the werewolf from here so obviously, whichever one was giving off that scent could probably smell me, too. I tried to appear casual but I couldn't seem to keep the pretense up. I mumbled an excuse about being ill to the teacher and they let me go early. I took a detour on my way to the nurse's office and instead shoved into the girls' bathroom.

I locked the door behind me so I was finally alone. I let the heavy weight of my bag slip off my shoulders and onto the ground with a clink. I paced the room, fisting my hair, thinking I was about to go insane from the stress. I was so furious, at everything. I'd just got here and already I felt like I had to get out – I didn't _deserve _to settle down like anyone else.

I opened my mouth, and was thinking a scream was going to escape my lips but instead a howl tore through me. Great. So now every werewolf in the tri-state area would know where I was. I needed to calm down or I was going to do something I really regretted.

I placed a hand on the sink to steady myself as my feet swayed beneath me. I couldn't blackout. If I lost consciousness and the wolf took over, I didn't know what I'd do – what kind of devastation I'd cause. I made my shaking fingers turn the faucet and slapped my face repeatedly with frozen water. I looked up at my reflection in the cold glass. My grey eyes had fizzed yellow like molten gold. "No," I whispered. The other wolves could probably sense my frustration but I refused to call for help. I had been doing this on my own for nine years. I could handle myself. "No," I repeated, harder this time, "You're an omega. You're better than them."

Okay. I could do this. I'd done it a thousand times before. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, just my breathing. In, out. In, out. It seemed to take forever, but I finally relaxed and the beating of my heart grew fainter.  
I'd done it. I'd pushed the wolf back down.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, startling me from my minor victory. I glanced at my reflection once more and shook myself, taking a few more shaky breaths and saddling my satchel. The knock came again and in the cheeriest voice I could muster, I replied, "I'll be out in a second!"  
I took one last long look at my reflection. I didn't know what I was hoping to see, but all I saw were empty eyes staring back at me. I tried for a smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. I sighed and emptied the sink.

**ISAAC**

The final lesson of the day was probably the most hated: Econ. Or at least, it was for me. I had been forced into taking it by my dad. I guess I could opt out now that he was gone but…it didn't feel right. Like I was betraying him somehow. Yes, I'm fully aware my dad had been a dick and that I should hate his guts but that doesn't change the fact he was my father.

The two idiots shuffled in and abruptly dropped their voices when they saw me, "Got something to say?" I growled as they slunk into the seats. "Tell you later." Scott replied. I had a pretty good feeling what they were whispering about. After all, I'm sure if omega girl hadn't been operating under human hearing level, the entire school would have heard her distress howl. I had almost mistook her for one of my pack members and gone to help her but then I realized I didn't recognized it.  
Despite her annoying tendencies, I hoped she was okay. I would have felt like an ass if I found out she was hurt and I'd been able to stop it.

She did show up to Econ, though. I could decide whether I felt relieved or agitated. The pack gave her the death glare on the way in and because there were no other seats in the class, she was forced to sit next to me. Throughout the entire lesson, I had to focus on not ripping her head off for being such an idiot right then and there. I even had to resort to digging my nails into my own chair to prevent myself from flying at her. Across the room I chanced a glance at my pack mates. Erica's jaw was set and she was giving Claire such a venomous look I was half-expecting the silver-eyed girl to spontaneously combust at any moment. Boyd – the calmest of us – only looked mildly annoyed. Pulling faces at me and rolling his eyes at Erica. Claire was attempting to look casual but her body language was defensive and she was tense, like a coil of wire. Our fourth member – Max – rarely came to school anymore but I doubted he hadn't heard her howling. To be honest, he'd probably be cool with Claire. Max was pretty laid back guy. A great werewolf, determinedly ruthless but when the moon wasn't full he tended to be a reasonable guy.

Mrs. Stoll droned on about something to do with the Fourth Amendment but I was only half listening. I could see Stiles shooting us all weird looks, trying to work out what was going on. When class finally ended, everyone filled out and I shuffled over to Erica and Isaac. Before the she-wolf could open her mouth to yell at me for not telling her, I held both hands up in silent protest, "Just – let me talk to her, okay? If you both fly in and go all bad-cop-and-angry-pissed off-werewolf-cop she's most likely going to take off."  
"And what are you gunna say, exactly?" the blonde girl demanded, "We should tell Derek. Hell – he probably already knows. The stupid bitch-"  
"Erica," Boyd warned, "You're mean girl is showing," he turned back to me, "Dude, what exactly are you going to say?"  
I shrugged. I hadn't really thought of anything. "Unbelievable," Erica muttered under her breath, "Someone's a love-sick puppy." I growled at her and it came out way more savage then I expected. She dropped her gaze to the floor.  
"I need something to tell Derek," Boyd prompted, "What are you going to say?"  
I sighed, "I'll get her to submit," I finally responded, "Then she'll have no choice but to become part of the pack."

* * *

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	3. 3:I Get Hit by Cupid's Arrow or a Hunter

**CLAIRE **

I don't remember what time I got through the door. It had to have been late, because it was dark outside and mom was still at work – which made me nervous. She had a job running a bookshop – that mainly sold online but she did have a few small chains like here in Beacon Hills. This was how my mom afforded to move me from school to school, state to state. It was her business and sometimes I felt incredibly selfish for leeching money off her. The fact that she was out at this time worried me. Packs had used many ways over the years to manipulate me, to try and bend me to their will and using my mom as leverage was a common trick.

I dumped my school bag in the hallway and went straight up stairs to change. I stripped off my old clothes and immediately pulled out a pair of running shoes, a vest and my sweats. I didn't know it was possible to aggressively tie shoe laces, but I did it anyway. I was absolutely sick of all of this. I didn't want to be normal (I couldn't think of anything more miserable) but at the same time, this wasn't living. This was like being some kind of fugitive, an outcast.

_You are an outcast, _a voice in my head whispered, _your dad died. It should have been you. _

I roared. Literally, roared like some kind of demented animal and spun so quickly my shoes squeaked, slamming my fist into the door frame. Pain pulsed through my hand briefly and it was a relief, a comfort even, as if I was greeting an old friend. The clean air of my new bedroom filled my lungs as I took shuddering breath; tears going unchecked. Then my accelerated healing kicked in and the pain numbed eventually giving out until all I had was a couple of tiny white scars where my knuckles had split but even they were fading. A pile of ruined veneer and plaster lay at my feet. I followed a path of invisible rampage in my head, imaging tearing down posters and smashing up that awful porcelain mermaid on the second shelf and how good it would make me feel. I knew I would never act on it though. When I'd regained my senses, I would feel guilty for destroying all of my mother's lovely gifts even if she would be understanding about it.

No, I needed another way to vent my anger. And that was running.

Don't get me wrong, I hate most forms of exercise. Like, hate with a burning passion. Sometimes I can't even shoot a couple of hoops without tasting blood in my mouth. But I don't mind running. It gives me a thrill, to feel the leaves crunching beneath my feet, to make the forest obey me as I stamp a path through it.

Here, I can stop thinking about everything. The cold air clears my head, hitting my face and leaving my cheeks stinging red from the frozen wind. I ran - feeling everything as a momentary flash around me. I used tree stumps as platforms to push up off and sprinted in and out of undergrowth, sending leaves madly skittering into the air. Here was the only place I could forget the looks of hatred the pack had given me. Here, I could forget myself – become free. I laughed with joy, a hysterical, desperate sound that threatened to turn into a sob.

I ran until I couldn't feel the ground beneath me.

I ran until I couldn't feel my legs.

I ran until I heard someone following me.

I slowed, didn't stop. I had scolded myself on many occasions for doing that. Usually when this happened, I ended up getting jumped on. I scanned my surroundings, keeping my paces long but my footsteps low. I couldn't see anything at that moment, but I could smell. There was a presence in these woods, one that didn't belong. My senses weren't finely tuned, so I couldn't place it, but I somehow I could sense it didn't want to do me any harm. I slowed. Stopped. Coming up short, I pretended to drop something and spent extra-long looking for it. My hair scraped the forest floor, creating a brown veil so I could get a proper look.

Someone was moving towards me from the left side of the forest - too fast to be human. Before I could react, they barreled straight into me, knocking me backwards and sending the wind out of my lungs.  
I was soon on my feet; lips pulling into a snarl of anger, eyes turning to flame. I glared at the leather disaster in front of me, a growl rising in my throat. I was in a crouching position like some sort of animal, ready to pounce at any time. If he wanted to talk, he would have dropped his gaze already, let me win. Instead he held firm and his blue eyes burning holes into me made me want to curl up in a ball and hide. But I didn't back down, and neither did he. We stood staring at each other for a moment like we were about to engage each other. "You need to stop," he said. He sounded furious, but he didn't yell. I would have preferred getting shouted at – his silent anger unnerved me more than the yellow of his eyes. "You're going to attract the entire county."

He advanced on me and I took a reflexive step backwards. I could see the anger rising, causing an ominous red flush in his cheeks. And then it bubbled over. He came towards me and shoved me, hard enough that I stumbled, "Just who the hell do you think you are?" he demanded, "I have something here! Why're you trying to ruin it?"  
It was my turn to be pissed. "_I'm _ruining it? _Me? _ME!" I yelled in his face, raising a finger in outraged accusation. "I came here to get away from you people! I can here to have a normal life! I'm trying _so _hard to make this work for me and my mom! And _I'm _the one ruining it?" I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes but I swiped them away with the back of my hand. I would not cry. I just couldn't, not in front of him. "Why are you really here?" I pressed before I could let things get awkward.  
He seemed to soften a little, "I want you to become a part of our pack." His voice was calm and steady as still water. I analyzed him, my eyes dancing over his features, never lingering on a single place too long. I hoped it looked like I was assessing him scientifically for weaknesses and not checking him out because (let's be honest) he had a lot going for him.  
"Like hell," I snarled back. He shoved me again and this time, something inside me snapped.

If he wanted to be like that, then fine.

I sprang at him. The surprise caught him off guard and I grabbed his arms, spinning off balance until we landed in the dirt together. Every muscle was tense and coiled now, ready to fight. "I don't want to hurt you," he said. It came out slurred through the set of new canine teeth. "But I will. If you don't come with me."  
This time, he was the first to make the move. He swiped at me, but I saw the hit coming and danced away. Claws extended, I moved back into an offensive position. I hooked my foot around his ankle. He lost his balance. I had a second's chance and I took it. I kicked out. What I wasn't expecting was for him to grab my leg. I was sent toppling backwards, landing painfully on my back.  
I tried to pull my shin free but instead his hand slid up my thigh to lock around the upper most part of my leg. I forgot myself. I hesitated, shocked by such an intimate touch. And it cost me. He slammed me onto the ground and the wind was knocked out of me. I was lying face first in the undergrowth. The leaves, sharp rocks and twigs scraped my cheek. And suddenly there was this huge weight on top of me and I was totally defenseless and completely pissed but at the same time a little turned on. No one had ever managed to beat me in a fight before. No one.

Until now.

What people don't get about fighting is the sensual connection to the violence. The greasy feel of sweat as he yanked my wrist so I was facing him; the smell of his skin as he racked his claws against my collarbone; the kinetic impact of flesh as he wrapped his hand around my throat. All people understand is pain, but sometimes pain could feel so good. "Okay," I sighed, "Okay, you win. I'll go with you. Please, let me up."  
He frowned down at me, "How do I know you're not lying?"  
"You don't," I admitted with a shrug, "I guess you'll just have to trust me."  
He removed his hand slowly from my wrist. "Any funny business…" He said pointing a finger at me in warning. Then he moved his hand away from my neck. Big mistake.  
Faster than the speed of light; I yanked at the back of his shirt and threw him to the ground. Now I had the upper hand. I brought my fist down onto his face and my entire arm jarred with the impact. He winced and spat blood into the dirt. I kneeled on his chest and he groaned beneath me as my hands caught his wrists, pinning him in place. I reveled in the power. "Rule number one," I said slowly into his ear, "_Never _trust me." I placed a clawed hand on his chest. "Now. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you?"  
"You'd start a war," he replied matter-of-factly. "Derek, Erica and Boyd would hunt you to the ends of the Earth and skin you without blinking." His smile was cold, much like his winter blue eyes. They danced with something I didn't understand. As if he knew more than he was letting on.  
"You're so sure they'd go to all that effort over one little Omega?" I tried to make it sound like I was being taunting, but it came out more doubtful than that.  
"You don't know my friends." His eyes glittered. "You want a reason not to kill me? Right now I'm the only one keeping you alive. If my pack decides to go to our Alpha, then you'll be fair game."  
I knew he was right. I could sense it. But I also knew I didn't want to go with him. I didn't want to make myself a vulnerable target by walking straight into the lion's den. "I – I can't." I said more to myself.  
He rolled his eyes, "And why the hell not?"  
"You don't understand," I slumped against him, removing my grip from his wrists. I expected him to attack me. He didn't. Maybe it was because I was still pressing my kneecaps into his ribcage. I relaxed slightly. "Being alone is all I've ever known. Going to meet up with a pack that possibly wants me to be a part of it? I'm – I'm freaked." I wasn't going to tell him I was scared because you don't tell people that. By the way my hands were trembling so badly, he could probably guess that I was panicking.  
"Just calm down." He put a hand on my shoulder. Normally I don't notice fleeting touches, but I noticed this. When a hot guy touches you, it tends to be a big deal. "Look at your face." he said softly.  
He gestured to a murky puddle beside him. I could barely see anything in the setting light but I did notice two things about my reflection. One: my eyes were burning amber and two: my canines had expanded to wolf teeth. I clamped my mouth shut, trying to think about my mom and dad: my anchor. Breathe. Just breathe.  
When I opened my eyes, Isaac was watching me intently. "What?" I snapped a little to forcefully. He smirked at me, "_What?_"  
Silence  
"You're…crushing…me." He finally wheezed.  
I rolled off him, trying to suppress a blush. "Right," I said awkwardly, "Um – sorry."  
More awkward silence. I rocked on the balls of my feet as he stood with his hands shoved in his pockets. "So – um – your pack-?"  
"Oh, yeah," he said, seemingly snapping out of whatever daze he'd been in. "This way." he motioned towards what seemed to me like a bundle of trees but whatever. I was tired. I wanted to get this other and done with so I could get home before sundown. I hated getting caught out after dark.  
I moved through the forest like a klutz. With most of my body's chemicals wasted on the fight with Isaac I felt like I was wading through treacle. I had to keep my eyes ahead of me so I could see the next obstacle but that meant my feet kept getting caught on gnarled roots and I was tripping over my own feet. Isaac laughed from somewhere in front of me. "You're a werewolf," he sneered, "Your co-ordination should be _perfect_."  
"Yeah – well – bite me, Beta boy." I snarled, "So I'm tired because I fought you. I still won."  
"By default," he corrected me, "Because you're a sneak and a liar."  
"Talk about a sore loser." I muttered under my breath. The words did hurt me but I was well trained in not letting emotional weakness show. Except anger. But I could use anger to my advantage.  
Crying – however - would get me nowhere.  
"I heard that." He shot over his shoulder.  
We walked most of the way in silence. I was trying to focus on not falling over. I stumbled more often than I should have and had to hold onto Isaac's shirt once so I didn't twist my ankle. He looked amused. I – however – was embarrassed. I let go immediately. "It's fine," he smiled evilly, "You can touch me all you want."  
"I don't know any girl in their right mind who would want to touch you," I retorted, "Ever."  
"You? In your right mind?" He snorted.  
"Oh my God!" I yelled in exasperation, "Will you shut up?"  
"Jeez, what's got you all ready to kill me?" he taunted, "Is it that time of the month?"  
I must have turned scarlet. "No!" I cried in outrage, "But I'm about ready to really rip your throat out if you-!" I was so angry I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I slammed head first into the back of him, my forehead cracking against his shoulder blades. I grimaced and felt him wince as I punched his arm. "What the hell-!" I began but the arm that wrapped around my head, clamping my mouth shut with a huge hand silenced me.  
"Claire," Isaac said very slowly. "Shut up and listen." Even though I wanted to take a chunk out of him palm, I forced myself to calm down and listen. At first I heard nothing but the sound of the forest but then I caught it. "Do you hear that?"  
I nodded almost incoherently. I could hear footprints in the forest that didn't belong. Not like a jogger or walker but like someone carrying something heavy. I could hear ragged breathing and smell the familiar scent of lead and something much more deadlier. Wolfsbane.

Before I could even react to the situation, an arrow was flung at us from somewhere in the thicket. Out of instinct, I stepped in front of Isaac. The arrow hit me in the gut and pain knocked through me, a burning sensation that was almost unbearable. I gritted my teeth. "Ow."  
"You little idiot." Isaac shook his head as I collapsed against him. The second arrow came at us but Isaac was quicker than I had been. He caught it just inches from his face. He rolled his eyes. "Wolfbane tip. Just great."  
"Who-?" I stammered as I ripped the arrow out. I didn't scream but a whimper escaped my lips like I was some kind of kicked puppy.  
"Hunters." He said, "Run."  
I got to my feet as a chorus of shouts sounded all around us. My knees buckled and the world swayed violently, my vision turning a sickening red. "Shit." Isaac muttered and before I could stop him, he grabbed me around the waist and put me over his shoulder where I'd be out of the way.  
"Put me down!" I demanded, even though I knew I wouldn't be able to walk. The atmosphere became blurry as we picked up the pace. I felt as though I was going to faint if we got any faster, until finally we were there.

Isaac dropped me like a rock and I stumbled on my feet. I stared up at the warehouse we'd emerged outside of and gave him an incredulous look. "This is your meet? Seriously?" I waved my arm at it. To be honest, it didn't look too shabby. But I had seen better. Like, way better - restaurants, clubs, even mansions. So I was surprised to find a pack hiding out in such a small place.  
I was hit by a coughing fit and when I brought my hand away from my mouth I saw blood. I shuddered and allowed Isaac to lead me into the entrance to the building. As soon as I entered the rail deport I noticed one of two things. One: it smelled like stagnant water and decay and two: there was a lot of shouting going on. Three people screaming at each other while two people kept supporting the loudest voice of all. I wasn't expecting much, but at least the building look slightly safe. Meets weren't generally places where packs lived, they were just usually there to be used as a safe meeting or training spot, but there was a torn up sofa stashed in the corner – so that had to mean it was being used for something more than training and by the smell of it; something way, _way _more than training if you know what I mean.  
"Derek, you're not listening to us!" somebody shouted. I recognized the voice at least – it was someone from my school. What was his name? Stan? No – Stiles.  
"Thank you for your input," another voice said sarcastically, this time female. She sounded like a bitch. "But I think Derek knows what he's doing."  
"Exactly," the guy – Derek – responded as we neared. "And you're here for me, Stiles. So watch it."

Conversation came to a sudden halt as we entered the room. Five pairs of eyes locked on me immediately. Grasping my wounded side, I held up my other hand. "Hi."  
"Who the hell is this?" Derek snapped. The violence in his voice almost had me flinching but years of standing up to rival packs had driven most of the weakness out of me.  
"Claire, Derek. Derek, Claire." Isaac offered. He was trying to sound casual but his voice was on edge. His fingers were locked around my elbow, as if he was expecting someone to rush me at any second. And judging by Derek's body language, I could tell he was considering just that.  
"She's an omega." Erica said quietly.  
"You knew?" He sounded offended. Derek turned to the pair flanking him, the two I had seen before in the cafeteria. They both nodded. "Nevermind that," Derek shook himself, "Why are you here? Did you come looking for me?"  
"N-not exactly." I stammered. My legs almost buckled underneath me but Isaac steadied me. However much I hated him, I was thankful for that. "I didn't know there was a pack in town."  
"Can we talk about this later, please?" Isaac said dryly. "She's kind of bleeding out all over my hand." As if in evidence, he held up the arm he had used to steady my elbow – which had obviously been hanging too low – was now coated in a thick layer of scarlet.  
"Why?" another boy I recognized – Scott – asked, "What happened?"  
"Hunters," Isaac said and I swear, everyone's breath hitched collectively. "Out in the forest. With Wolfbane tipped arrows. They were too fast."  
"Or she's too inexperienced," Derek rolled his eyes. "Scott – call Deaton. We'll discuss in the Kanima later. Stiles with me." I caught the other two, Boyd and Erica, nudging each other and grinning at Stiles whilst Stiles gave them a sarcastic look and followed Derek. It made me wonder if something was going on there. Scott began phoning Deaton (whoever he was) as Isaac led me over to the beaten couch.  
"So," Isaac smirked down at me as I lounged out on the grimy thing. It smelt of unspeakable things – bodily fluids I really didn't want to mention (and I wasn't talking about pee) – that had been desperately covered with bleach. Obviously not desperately enough. "How's your first day been?"  
I shrugged, though it hurt. A lot. "Meh," I said, "I've had worse."  
He arched an eyebrow, "Really?" he looked a little taken aback, "Worse than getting shot with wolfsbane."  
"2007 a bunch of Betas tied me up and dragged me into the forest," I replied, keeping my eyes glued to the floor. "They would've beaten me to death if my mom hadn't come home and found me missing and the back door wide open. I was twelve."  
Isaac softened slightly, leaning cross-armed against a steel support. "We're not like that here." He said gently.  
"Sure you're not-t." then I fell asleep.


	4. 4: I'll Show Them

**Hey guys, thanks for all the great reviews! :D if you want to be featured as a character in this fanfic, just leave your name and a short description of yourself in your next review and I'll be sure to include you in some way. **

**Stiles **

I followed Derek into the train car he'd motioned me into, ignoring the sneers I got from the others. Man, having to share Derek with a bunch of needy werewolves really did suck. But in those blissful moments we got a little hush and some alone time – let's just say it was worth it.  
"I need you to be careful Stiles," Derek told me, "And I don't just mean stay out of the way. I mean – just, be safe, okay?" by the urgency in Derek's voice, I could tell he was worried about me and it really bugged me that I couldn't do more to help. I'd asked about the possibility of getting "the bite" off Derek before but every single time I'd tried to have a rational conversation with him, he'd shut me down. I was starting to think "rational" didn't exist in werewolf-ness language.  
"I'll be fine," I replied, looking him directly in the eye. I saw something pass over his face. Was it a brief flicker of fear? I could never be sure with Derek. He hardly ever let the mask slip around his betas. That was probably for their benefit. "Anyway," I said, eager to change the subject, "What do you think of Princess la Loba, over there?" I gestured vaguely in the direction of the new girl, slumped on the couch. Isaac was next to her, looking very uncomfortable as he stiffly peeled back her hoodie and t-shirt to reveal the wound, listening to whatever the hell Scott was telling him. I could have laughed. Isaac acted like a ladies man half the time but the closest he ever got to female contact was a kick in the nuts from Erica on occasion.  
"I don't trust her." Derek said immediately.  
I rolled my eyes, "You don't trust anyone."  
"Do you?" Derek asked quietly.  
"Do I what?" was he doubting whether I trusted him or not?  
"Believe her?" he pressed, "Trust her?"  
"Look, Scott trusts his instincts," I began, "He says she's telling the truth-"  
Derek's face darkened, "I didn't ask, Scott." He said softly. He took my hand beneath his. It wasn't like me smooth one that had been used to running it's fingers over a keyboard or playing on a controller. His were the hands of a fight. A killer, even. He had used these very hands to rip the life out of his uncle but, to be honest, the douche had deserved it. The weight of his fingers on mine was almost crushing. "I asked you. Do you think she's telling us the truth?"  
"Honestly?" I sighed, trying to gather my thoughts but finding I didn't need to. I knew exactly what to say. "I think she is. I've seen grief, Derek. I see it every day. In the mirror, on Isaac, on you. And on her. I think she did come here because she's running from something – but I don't think it's any threat we have to worry about. This is her battle."  
Derek cocked his head and smiled at me. "You're too trusting, Stiles," Derek chastised, "You need to learn to stop being so caring."  
"Then you'd have no one to love," I reminded him. He smiled half-heartedly. "I'm going to go check on her." I shifted my gaze toward the couch Claire was passed out on.  
"Stiles," Derek said softly as I turned to go, "One other thing."  
"What, I thought-" before I could finish, Derek crashed his lips into mine and almost pinned me against the wall with the force of his jaw. "Mmhmp." I let out happily, soaking in the ecstasy of the moment. It wasn't like some of the other kisses I'd had off him recently. This one was full of lust and passion rather than something more emotional. There was something so desperate about the way Derek touched me sometimes, as if he thought I would fade right through his fingers. He didn't want to lose me and neither did I, not after I'd just got him. He bit down on my lower lip, asking for entry but I denied, pulling away with what was probably a huge smirk on my face. I waggled a finger in front of his face, "No – no way, Alpha boy. You're gunna have to work harder than that." I grinned at him once before disappearing.

**Isaac**

"Deaton says we have to wash the wolfsbane out," Scott told me finally once he'd hung up. "You hold her and I'll fetch some water."  
"Dude, I'm not holding her," I protested, "I met her like a couple of hours ago. I'm sure you've heard of this thing. Oh, what's it called? Oh, yeah. Personal space!"  
"Yeah, well, she's in a life threatening situation," he replied, "The same rules don't apply."  
I gave him a final exasperated look. "Please," he added. I hoped my bitchface was good as I glared at him and pulled the lithe girl into my lap. For someone so skinny, she was heavy and surprisingly tall. So tall, her head rested against my shoulder. "You so owe me for this." I said. Her hair scraped my chin and I resisted the urge to show her off me. She smelt good, though. Like strawberries and cream and most of all the forest. It was all over her, the sharp smell of moss and leaves covering every spare inch. It smelt familiar. Good.  
I could also smell her werewolf side. A sharp stab of some pheromone undetectable to humans. I can't really describe what it smells like but sometimes it could really be inconvenient like in an awkward-boner-when-your-two-best-friends are kissing way. I expected Boyd to kill me the last time that happened but I think he understood it was kind of involuntary.  
"Oh, come on." Scott said with an eye roll as he returned with a jug of water. "A hot girl is sitting in your lap. The _hardship_."  
"Shut up." I retorted, "Under normal circumstances I'd be turned on. But she's kind of bleeding into my crouch."  
Scott laughed. Then he peeled back her shirt to reveal the septic wound. Her hoodie way on the couch where we'd left it. Scott cringed at the gash. "Nasty," he said as he poured water onto a cloth and wiped away the blood and part of the wolfsbane. The wound was still smoking, but luckily it hadn't been a bullet so getting all of the herb out wasn't too big a problem. It was beginning to come free on the cloth and Scott hissed through his teeth as part of it touched his skin. It was totally deadly to werewolves in it's natural form (it was when you got it in your system did the chaos begin) but it could still hurt like a bitch.  
Claire began to stir once we'd got most of it off and she was really confused. "What the hell…?" her eyes lulling shut again. She swatted Scott, "Quit touching me!" Scott didn't seem fazed. He handed her the cloth and she rubbed at the wound herself. I was playing a game now, seeing how long it would take her to realize she was still sitting in a stranger's lap.  
"Boo." I whispered in her ear and she cursed, untangling her limbs from my legs and looking stunned. She pointed an accusing finger at me. "_I hate you!"_  
"Feeling's mutual." I replied. I stared down at the wet patch on my jeans. "Well, that's embarrassing. Looks like someone got a little excited." I grinned at her and she launched herself at me, tearing at my throat. Scott pulled her back and she winced.  
"Still wounded, remember?" Scott prompted, "Killing Isaac can wait until later," he gave me an exasperated look, "I'll even help."  
I flipped him off and leaned against the one of the steel supports. "Wow," I snorted, "I thought there'd be a thank you for getting you this far. All things considered." Okay, so that was a low blow and I mentally kicked myself for being a douche. She turned to me and there was such a look of venom in her face it made me think two things. She either wanted to screw me, or to kill me and not necessarily in that order. Or who knows, maybe I was misinterpreting girl speak. It wasn't exactly a skill of mine to understand the female of our species.  
"Go fuck yourself." She spat and followed Scott. Scott gave me one of those signature I-told-you-so looks he was so good at pulling off and continued walking.

**Claire**

"Derek?" I knocked on the door to the wreck of the old train car very delicately after Scott and the other kid Stiles ushered me into the room before leaving. I didn't want them to go, mainly because Derek unnerved me and Stiles and the others seemed good at calming them down.  
"What?" the voice came back at me. It sounded hoarse and agitated. Well, this was going to be a bundle of fun, wasn't it?  
"It's me," I added, "Claire."  
A beat. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn me away. "Come in." he said quietly. If I hadn't had excellent hearing I might not have heard him otherwise.  
I came in very slowly. I was about to open my mouth to speak when I was silenced. "Listen, Claire. I don't like this….situation…you've put me in. It makes life very difficult for me when I already have something much more important to worry about," the way Derek was speaking, so calm and collected, might have fooled your average teen age girl. But I could hear his voice dripping with menace and my heart rate accelerated. "So, I'm going to give you two choices. You can become a part of this pack, and abide by my laws as Alpha. If you don't…there are always ways I can make you disappear." My heart lurched into my throat. "You and your mother. I can make it look like an accident. I've seen it done before." The fact that he hadn't actually done it before did nothing to reassure me. He wanted me to join his stupid little cult and he was threatening my mom. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to rip out his throat and watch the life drain from his eyes. Then I would be the Alpha and for the first time in my life I'd have the power. I'd wouldn't have to run anymore. I could settle down and start my own pack and be a badass. And that's exactly what I was going to do when I got the opportunity. I'd kill Derek, Isaac and then anyone else who got in the way. I'd show them all that this omega wasn't a toothless puppy but a ruthless predator.  
I smiled sweetly, "Of course I'll become part of your pack," I hoped he couldn't sense the deceit in my voice as I added, "My Alpha."


	5. 5: Believe

**Claire**

I trailed through the door at around eleven and slam straight into a box blocking the hallway. "Crap!" I say way a little too loudly as I enter the hallway. I clutch my toe, cursing myself. I should have known better. My life is a labyrinth of packed boxes. My mom and I are professional packers; it kind of comes with the territory. We don't mess around with the castoff cardboard from gas stations or grocery stories. We have expensive, industrial-strength boxes with permanent labels. This means if you stub your toe on them, even for a werewolf, it hurts a lot. That's one thing people tend to overlook about werewolves. Sure, we have a higher healing capacity but enhanced senses means we can feel every fracture, break and bruise in perfect clarity and our body can with stand more than a normal person so we can't just blackout when the pain becomes too intense.  
I discarded my house keys into the disused ashtray in the center of our dining table before moving past it to grab a can of Pepsi from the fridge. Sure enough, there was a pizza sat on the table waiting for me. Because my mom worked such long hours, we mainly survived off takeaways for sustenance. But hey, you didn't see me complaining.  
I pulled the box open. Cheese with tuna and onion, my favorite. I inhaled the scent and ripped open the lid of the cardboard, tearing at a piece and shoving it into my mouth. I took a gulp of Pepsi and continued on through the house after wiping the grease onto my jeans.  
I go up to the bathroom and stumble towards the mirror. I splash cold water onto my face, opting for a quick relief rather than being alone with my thoughts in the shower.  
"Claire?"

Before you meet her, I just want to tell you that my mom – Nina de Lune – is the best mom in the entire world and probably one of the kindest people I've ever known which just proves my theory that the best people have the worst look.  
My mom never knew her real parents. Her dad apparently left her outside a hospital when she was three and that was the last time she ever saw him. She was shuffled in and out of foster families. Not because she wasn't a nice girl, but because she'd ended up with the worst possible people who had locked her in attics and sent her back once they'd had their own kids. At thirteen, people lost interest in my mom and she lost interest in being adopted. Instead she focused on her school work. When she was eighteen, she knew a few people who hooked her up with a job at the _New York Enquirer. _There she met my dad when she was asked to do an interview on some law thingy my dad had been involved in. They had hit it off and after three years together, hey presto, baby me came along. It had been good for seven blissful years until the holiday in Yellowstone, where she lost her husband.  
After that, she'd tried to get our lives back to normal. A month after the attack she'd realized that normality would be in no way possible for me ever again, so she'd settled for trying to find me a place I could be safe. She'd quit her job at the Enquirer and began her online book business. We'd been moving for as long as I can remember and nine years on and she still hadn't achieved safety.  
Now me and that stupid tabby cat she holds in her arms are the only family she's got left. Smudge hates me but I put up with him for my mom's sake. She loves cats. But cats, as you can guess, hate werewolves. Smudge hisses at me and jumps out of my mom's arms.  
"Hey mom," I said, purposefully keeping my back to her to hide the blood stained t-shirt. "Sorry to wake you."  
"Are you okay, honey?" I could hear the genuine concern in her voice and it sent pangs through my heart.  
I focused on keeping my voice steady. "I'm okay, mom," I said brokenly, "You can go back to sleep now."  
A beat. "Sweetheart," she begins in a firm tone.  
"I'm fine, mom," I should tell her. I should let her know about the pack in town, and about the fact that I've joined it. But I can't seem to bring myself into forming coherent speech. I knew she'd be able to do it, to pick up and move to someplace where they don't know us yet. Hell, we've barely unpacked yet. But she wants me to try and I'm scared of what will happen if I try and run. And, to be honest, I'm tired. I just want my life back. Even if it is severely fucked up.  
"Bullshit." I freeze, spinning on my heels to stare at her. I blink once, twice. My mom never swears, neither of us do. House rules. "I've spoken Mr. Hale. He came into the bookstore."  
"You – _what?" _she had to have meant Derek, but hadn't Derek threatened my mom earlier. Then what the hell was he playing at, pretending to be friends with my mom all of a sudden.  
"Sweetheart," she swept across the room and tuck my hand in hers. She saw the blood stain on my shirt and her breath hitched but for a moment she ignored it and searched my eyes. "You don't have to lie to me, sweetie. If these people are threatening you-"  
"They're not," I snapped suddenly. I don't know why I'm trying to defend them. It feels like the right thing to do. "It was my idea. I don't want to keep moving around. I'll be seventeen soon. I want to have a life when I leave school, go to college maybe." I doubted I'd survive until college but I couldn't tell my mom that. I was the only family she had left, if she lost me, she lost everything. Maybe that's why her eyes filled with tears. "Mom, don't _cry._" I hate it when my mom cries. It makes me feel like a terrible person. This – all of this – is because of me.  
"Derek can help me, Mom, like Abe," I said trying to gauge her reaction. "And I don't have to leave and neither do you. You can stay in Beacon Hills, run your business, have a normal life. And I'll have pack – people who can protect me." I didn't need protection and every word that slipped out of my mouth made me feel like a guilty liar but if it calmed my mom, it was worth it.  
A beat. She stared into my eyes and my heart was beating as loudly as the wings of a hummingbird. Then she nodded. "Okay, okay. A pack. I can work with this," it sounded more like she was talking to herself, "You'll have to have them over sometime, let me properly introduce myself."  
"Mom," I said breathlessly, "I don't think that's a good idea-" I didn't mind her meeting Scott, Stiles, Boyd and Erica. They seemed like nice people my mom could get along with. But Derek? No way. And Isaac? He was a sociopath. I mean, I was too, but I was better at hiding it. Anyway, a pack lunch – totally out of the question. "One step at a time." I corrected.  
Smiling at me, she nodded and kissed my cheek. "Go clean yourself up and straight to bed." She chastised. I nodded and moved from the bathroom into my own room. The door frame was still cracked from my impulsive behavior. Plaster still covered the floor but I was too tired to bother doing anything about it. I kicked it to one side and threw my ruined t-shirt and hoodie over it. It could wait until tomorrow morning. I threw myself down onto the bed and it rocked gently under my weight.  
As I was about to shut my eyes, my cellphone beeped. I didn't want to answer it but I forced myself to crawl out from under my covers to search for my phone. I picked it up, glaring at the dim light of the screen.  
It was a text from and unknown number.

_Sam's Diner. 2morrow after school. Don't be late. If you don't turn up, I'll find u. Derek's orders. _

_I._

I glared at the screen for a moment as a familiar sense of rage began to fill me. It was my first day and I was already getting orders barked at me. I felt like screaming. God I hated him.

Because there was only one person "I" could be: Isaac.

**Isaac**

It rarely rained in Beacon Hills but when it did, it poured.

Claire was late, even though I'd firmly told her not to be. But then again, so was I. I ducked into the diner, water dripping from my jacket and grey Henley which I now assumed was firmly stuck to my body. My teeth chatter as the waitress shoots me an apologetic look and turns off the A/C. My skin is getting that itchy feeling that rubs your body when you've been in wet clothes too long and I catch a glimpse of myself in a reflective jug. My lips have turned blue and my hands are bright red. On top of that, I'm soaked from head to toe and my sneakers have water floating in them. My hair is stuck to my forehead and cheeks. I look like I've been wading in the ocean rather than ran from Derek's car up to the porch.  
The blonde waitress gives me an interested look but I just glare at her. She's really not my type. I try to do my best not to interact with humans much and even then only if they're really hot or I need to. Like with Stiles for example. Not that he's hot – but he's Derek's mate and therefore necessary contact. I'm still trying to figure out just how that pairing happened. The nerdy sophomore and the twenty-three year old outcast-Alpha. Hell, I have no idea. It's their business anyway. And my mom always told me if you want to keep your friends, to leave them alone.  
I'd chosen Sam's diner for a reason and not just because Sam had been Derek's one and only friend back before Derek's family had all perished in the fire, but because Sam's diner rarely ever got busy. Right now there was me, the waitress and another girl hunched over a laptop. She had flowing mousy brown hair that fell to her lower back and intelligent doe-like eyes. She had a book open to the side of her laptop, and was scanning it with one finger that was donned with a huge black onyx ring. She was probably writing a review for something and searching the page for quotations. The annoying thing was her wrists were dragged down by about half a dozen bangles and bracelets which weren't fun on werewolf hearing.  
People-watching wasn't particularly a hobby of mine but I had nothing better to do while I waited for Claire to arrive. Erica liked it though. I wasn't sure why, maybe she secretly missed the human world, I had no idea. Just because we were in the same pack didn't make us best buds. The girl's eyes danced away from the screen a moment and I recognized her. Her name was Theresa. We used to sit together in Econ and she had her locker next to mine in freshman year. It seemed so far away now, like I had met her once a decade ago. She smiled at me and it stirred a warm memory of laughing together in class, a time before I was bitten when I was still at the mercy of my dad, yes, but everything had felt so safe and simple and set in stone. Happy memories when I wasn't a douche and I had friends. Before being cursed, even if Derek said it was a gift.

I blinked once, twice, and then smiled back.

Claire came crashing through the door, dispelling the warm memories with the gust of cold air that came with her and washed over the café. Theresa grabbed her cardigan and pulled it further over her shoulders. The waitress shivered but made no attempt to cover her bare arms. She looked a bit ticked off that I hadn't bought anything yet.  
Claire, too, was drenched from the down pour. Her hair was a wild mess of frizzy wet strings that seemed to somehow puff out as well as stick to her face. She pushed a stray few strands out of her gilded grey eyes. She shook the water spray off her umbrella and onto the "Welcome" mat. I can see her face full of mixed emotions. She wants to ask questions, but so do I.  
Theresa waves to her. Claire waves back, even if her eyes tell me she's not sure who exactly she is interacting with. As soon as her butt touches the chair she spans, "What?"  
No "how are you" or "thank you for saving my life yesterday" which would have been nice. Instead I'm met with a cold confrontation. But this is Claire and it's not like I was expecting anything else. "I came here to talk to you," I hope I don't let me anger towards her show, "There's something I need to tell you. About Beacon Hills."  
"Fine," she breathes, "Just hurry. I don't like being seen here. With you. People will talk."  
"Stop being such a bitch," I snap. Then I wince. I didn't mean to sound that dick-y. Part of me is annoyed for letting Claire take so many liberties. I'm a higher ranking member of the pack than her, and I should be enforcing that.  
"Sorry," her eyes widen in surprise as if she can't believe she just apologized to me. She sounds genuine as well, which is strange. But she bites her tongue and doesn't insult me. I hold her gaze for a moment and we just stare at each other across the table. What is wrong with me? Yesterday, I was ready to kill this girl and now, I can't take my eyes off her. I can tell by her expression I've hurt her somehow and she glances away. "So," she says, collecting herself and soon the brief glimpse of the fragile girl I just saw is replaced by the she-wolf. But I can tell I've changed something in her. "What is it you want to tell me?"  
I take a long, slow breath. "Have you ever heard of a kanima?"  
Confusion flashes over her features, "Kanima?" she echoes, "What's a kanima?"  
I hide my disappointment. Maybe if she'd known something, it wouldn't mean going to all the trouble to get rave tickets for Friday night which was just around the corner. It was Tuesday now, meaning I had three days to figure something out. "A shapeshifter," I explain. "It's a long story but there's another shapeshifter in Beacon Hills and it's our responsibility to hunt it down. We need your help."  
"Why?" her voice is small. I can see the wild fear in her eyes. My hands lurch across the table and wrap around her wrist, afraid she'll bolt. She stares down at my fingers but I don't let go. I experimentally trace a lazy circle with my thumb on the inside of her wrist over a small tattoo. She shivers and I grin at her. "Stop it." She says. She's trying to sound commanding but it comes out almost as a moan of pleasure. God, what am I doing? I hate this girl and she's supposed to hate me.  
"Because Derek bit Jackson," I say, answering her previous question in an unconcerned way. My eyes are glued to the tattoo I never noticed before. The word "Believe" is scrawled across it in delicate had writing with a small love heart at the end. It's beautiful and it makes me wonder if she has any other tattoos. It also makes me wonder what it means. Is it a hint at humans to start believing in werewolves? Or a jibe at them? Maybe it's something totally different, referencing something personal to her. I want to know what it means. I want to know her.  
"Who's Jackson?" she asks. She's still staring at my hand but has made no attempt to untangle her fingers. Her voice is on edge. She doesn't actually like what I'm doing, but the wolf side of her is telling her not to challenge me. She knows I'm higher ranking. She knows I'm more powerful than her. She knows I can do anything I want with her, and there is such much I want to do to her.  
"Seriously? You don't know who Jackson is?" I ask her. I release her hand and she quickly snatches it back from across the table. The conversation veers off topic, "You're angry at me?"  
Her smile is broken, "I'm angry at everyone."  
"Yeah, but, you're upset," I tell her. I tilt her head up so she has to look at me. A fleeting emotion flickers through her eyes, something I can't read. "Are you okay?"  
"What does it look like?" she snaps. She looks hurt, but I don't know why. Is it because of me, or Derek or the pack? Maybe she's struggling to cope with all the changes. I just don't know and it's beginning to frustrate me when it shouldn't.  
I lower my voice. "Look, I know this is a bit overwhelming but I understand how you feel-"  
"How could you possibly understand, Isaac?" she demands. "You've been a werewolf for what, a few months? I've been like this for _nine years. _I've been running my entire life and now you want to join your super-secret wolf club-!" her voice heightens to the point where Theresa and the waitress begin to stare and she continues in a lower voice. "You have no idea how I feel."  
I try my best to look regretful. I try to sound apologetic but only a string of excuses fall from my mouth. "No, I-I get it…I've had a full moon…I understand…it's just…"  
"Forget it," she replies. She sounds tired, defeated. She starts to stand up.  
"Wait," I say. My hand reaches for her hand. I still haven't told her about the kanima, information that could probably save her life but she's not listening to me anymore.  
"Get away from me," She hisses, bellow human hearing level. She jolts her hand backwards as if my touch is painful. "Don't ever touch me again. I hate you! You know _nothing _about me! I hope one of the hunters get you because if you ever come near me again, I swear I'll kill you."  
She stands up and shakes her head, storming out of the diner and slamming the door shut behind her, leaving me sitting there and feeling like a fool. Theresa is trying to look busy, ignoring the awkwardness that now fills the room. "You going to order something?" the waitress asks me with venom in her voice. I could have pulled her head off. Instead I shook my head at her and left.

* * *

Claire's words swirl around in my head. My momentary feeling of kindness towards her is gone and now I long to rip out her pretty, little heart. "I'm going to kill the _bitch_!" I vent at Stiles.  
"Um, no, I'm pretty sure you're not," he replies. "A dead girl mauled by an animal wouldn't look great for the pack." He prompts. That's good old Stiles, always putting the pack first. But sometimes he can be downright annoying.  
"She threatened to kill me," I correct him, "Self-defense. And besides, she hates me."  
"Actually, she probably loves you."  
I whirl on him so hard I almost knock his hands off the driving wheel. That would have been bad. Stiles were the only one who was ever allowed behind the wheel of Derek's pride and joy, the Camaro. Ever since Erica had crashed it in January. "_What?" _  
"It's logical," Stiles replies happily. He's humming eighties theme tune. I wait for further details, but he just sits there.  
"Well," I nudge him, "Elaborate."  
"You're mean to the people you love," he says. "Remember me and Derek in the early days?"  
I smile at the memory. "You two were always at each other's throats," I say fondly, "Because you were cut from the same cloth."  
"Exactly," he replies. "Remind you of anyone?"  
"No!" I snap a little too defensively.  
Stiles smirks at me. "Oh, come on, dude, think about it for just a sec," he tells me, "Apart from both being highly functioning sociopaths and complete social-shut-ins as well as bloodthirsty lunatics half the time. You're pragmatic, dry, sarcastic and cynical. You both express yourselves dishonestly. She was totally alone, and so were you once upon a time."  
"Wow, man," I say in sarcastic admiration, "You got deep."  
He shoves me, "Shut up," he replies. "And plus, I can tell you want to do more than fuck her. You maybe boning her right now but I can tell you want more than that."  
I roll my eyes at him, "Whatever."  
"No, really," he ploughs on unrelentlessly, "I thought I saw actual hurt in your face when I picked you up right now."  
"Stiles, shut up."  
"Maybe it's for the best," he says, "I mean, I bet her mom wouldn't be too pleased about her little girl being sodomized by the monster you think you are."  
"Shut up."  
"She probably has the hots for you, you know-"  
"Shut up!"  
"Imagine her with some other guy, he's smacking her around-"  
"Shut. Up."  
"And the whole time she's crying, s_creaming _for you-"  
"_Shut up!" _  
"_Isaac! Isaac-!"_  
Without thinking, I reach over and grab Stiles by the throat. The car veers off course, doing a 180 before coming to land in a ditch. Stiles is breathing hard and I drop him immediately. Derek was going to kill me.  
"See," he tells me with a grin, "You do care about her, at least."


	6. 6: Your Fake Werewolf Girlfriend

**Okay, guys thanks for all the reviews :D keep 'em coming because I love hearing feedback from all of you good or bad. Okay, so obviously my story is AU because Derek has been the Alpha for more than a year because Isaac has been a werewolf for a year. Laura is still alive (she never died) in my story and the werewolves all live in a house owned by Derek called the DeVoue Manor (u like?) **

**Anyway, details aside enjoy the story :)  
**

* * *

**Claire**

As Wednesday bubbles around, I'm still angry at Isaac – but what does he expect?

He toys with my emotions, twisting me into loving him and then makes me go back to loathing him again. My blood is singing with longing but this is my wolf's reaction to Isaac's wolf side. I still hate him, but it is beginning to feign. Full moon was Saturday and I can already feel the wolf pulling inside, clawing just below the surface.

Waiting at the bus stop that morning was bad for my mental health. Allowing me time alone to think was dangerous in any case but with all that had gone on with Isaac the other day and the fresh fear of hunters plus another shapeshifter in town had my mind racing with thousands of colliding scenarios. What if the hunters found out I was in town? That I'd joined Derek's pack? I'd narrowly avoided them in the forest because of Isaac.

_Isaac._ I gritted my teeth and forced myself to think of anything other than that name.

The sun was peeking out over the horizon, making the sky look like tissue paper set on fire. The sky was beginning to get its blue back however, a far cry from yesterday when it had hammered down with rain. I breathed in the clean air that generated its way towards me from the woods. It smelt good, like home.  
My head was pounding. I hadn't got any sleep last night at all and I really needed to stop self-medicating with caffeine. Even as I thought it, I took a sip of my Coke and the thought melted away. I needed little perks like this. It was the only thing that was going to keep me sane.

Full moon. Full moon. Full moon.

It was all I could think about ever since moving here.

I had been fine every month for each year for nine year. Why Saturday would be any different was beyond me. Surviving for so long was a testament to something at least, when pretty much every omega I'd met along the way was dead.

I slipped onto the bus, opting for a seat towards the back. For most of the ride I stared out the window. I didn't even react to the boy next to me until he started getting up. I glanced in his direction, and saw a familiar face threatening the boy. Their words were muffled by _Fall Out Boy _but I could see from the kid's eyes he was practically terrified.  
Isaac sat next to me. I wanted to get away from him. Now. I made to brush past him, but he caught my elbow and squeezed my arm so hard it almost spasmed. "No," his eyes were practically glowing, "Sit."  
I shrugged my arm off of him but sat back down so I didn't cause a scene. I scanned his eyes. They were cool and calculating, like the Isaac I had met on the bus two days ago or the boy who had attacked me in the forest. The inside of my wrist began to feel strangely warm from where he'd touched it yesterday in the café.  
"What do you want from me?" my voice sounded shrill even to my own ears. "I told you if you came near me again-"  
He shot his glance around the passengers. They were all absorbed in their own little words, too engrossed in their texting to notice two werewolves about to face off. "So do it," he snarled and his eyes danced with amber light. My heart thundered and I could feel the wolf pulling for control, urging me to scratch his eyes out. I shut my eyes tight and Isaac laughed. I tried to block out the intimidating sound so my wolf didn't feel threatened, but it was a hard job. I should be used to it. Isaac had a way of flipping from one mood to another as fast as I could switch from savory to sweet at a party.  
Isaac – confident, overwhelming, a little vindictive, sarcastic, broody and most of all arrogant. Too egotistical. Thinking he'll always get his own way. "You see, you really, _really _made me look like an idiot yesterday." – He didn't need any help to look like an idiot but now was not an appropriate time to pint that out – "But I'm willing to overlook that. If you do me a favor."  
I glared at him hotly for a moment. What could possibly possess him to want anything off me? "Okay," I said very slowly, are you going to elaborate or do you just want me to guess?"  
"I need you to date me." He said in a rush of words that I barely caught. At first I wasn't sure I'd heard right.  
"_What?" _  
He groaned. "You heard me," he growled, "I… need…._you_…to…date…_me._"  
I laugh because it seems like the appropriate thing to do. But when his face doesn't flicker, I stop. "You kidding, right?" I said deadpan. He doesn't respond. "How about no."  
"Oh, for fuck's sake, not for _real,_" he rolls his eyes, "It's just – Laura's coming and Erica bet me I couldn't get a girlfriend before she got here."  
Now I was even more confused. "Who's Laura?"  
"Derek's sister," Isaac replied, "Look, long story. She was the Alpha and then she wasn't. That's not the point. I need to win this bet with Erica. She does all my homework, for a _month." _  
"What happens if you lose?"  
"She – she gets to destroy my Xbox with a sledge hammer." His face is pained.  
I let out a chortled laugh. "I'll be watching that then."  
"No, you're gunna help me," he whispered lowly. He leaned into my space, so I could feel his lips as he spoke the words close to my ear. "Because if you don't, I'm going to rip your vocal cords _out_." He makes the threat sound sexy, which is sick, I know, but I can't help a shiver. His nose nudges my ear and I hear him inhaling. It should be creepy. Instead it's kind of reassuring.  
"So," I told him very slowly, trying to piece everything together. "You need a fake significant other, a fake partner….and you chose me because? We're not exactly best buds to begin with…"  
"I don't have anyone else to ask," his cheeks flush red. Is he blushing? "And Laura will like you. She's the only one keeping the pack in line, you know. Derek acts like the big, bad Alpha but really it's his sister. She's coming back into town to help. You remind me of her."  
I liked to think that was a compliment, but seeing as I hadn't actually met her yet, I didn't really want people jumping to hasty conclusions about me.  
"Nope," I said, my eyes gleaming with sadistic joy. His hand wraps around my leg giving it a squeeze but I crush it beneath my grip. "Hands off, Beta boy."  
"I'll take you to Taco Bell," he offered.  
Tempting. Very tempting. "Still don't want to do it."  
"I'll pay you," he replied. His oceanic eyes connected with mine, filled with steely determination. "Three hundred bucks."  
"Six hundred." Because screw ethics. And I happen to know he's got to be loaded, judging by his limited edition Converse.  
Isaac rolls his eyes, "Are you all about the money?"  
"Yes," I smile sweetly. I haven't got a job yet, so this is the perfect opportunity to cash in, "Six hundred."  
"Four hundred." He barters.  
"_Six_ hundred."  
"Three hundred now," he confirms, "And three hundred _if _we pull this off."  
"Four hundred now," I translate, "Two hundred _when _we pull it off."  
He glares at me for a long moment, then shrugs his shoulders and pulls out his wallet from his back pocket. A stupid place to keep it, considering he was running from hunters/shapeshifters most of the time. He counted the bills in front of me, his wallet brimming with them, until he forced a wad of cash into my hand. "There," he spat. Then something flickered across his face. He leaned forward in the seat, hands wrapping around the metal back of my own chair so he could run his lips across my cheek. They wavered close to my lips, but he pulled away too soon. "My house, tonight. Don't be late."  
He got up, swinging his backpack over one shoulder. "Don't forget the dog food, _sweetheart!_" I called sarcastically, loud enough for most of the bus to hear. Isaac flashes his canines at me and then leaves.

* * *

I floated around for the rest of the day. I did a quiz in Calculus which I found out quickly I sucked at and that my mathematical skills were a complete failure to the world. I read a poem aloud in English and got patterned up with Ella for a Biology project on micro-organisms. I also opted for eating lunch with Ella, rather than sitting with Isaac and his friends. Ella had been my friend first and she needed me.  
"So," Ella said around a mouth full of ham and cheese, "I was thinking amoeba."  
"Huh?"  
"Yeah," she elaborates though I'm not really listening, "They get in through swimmer's noses then eat their brains."  
"That's nice for you."  
"Yeah, I was also thinking of setting my hair on fire, if you don't mind."  
"That's good."  
I was staring at Isaac who was glaring at me from across the room. Obviously, if we were going to pull off this couple thing, I had to play my part. Hating myself, I forced myself to turn to Ella with a smile. "Sorry, I'm distracted," I told her, "It's just – I'm dating Isaac."  
Ella almost spat her drink at me. "_What?!" _she demanded, "Why didn't you tell me?"  
"He only did it today on the bus," I leaned in closer, "It's not real. He placed a bet with Erica, and paid me to be his girlfriend."  
Ella's smile faltered, but she regained her composure. "Oh," she said, "That's…nice. Shouldn't you – uh – be sitting with him?"  
"Good idea," I amended, "Come on."  
"Oh, I – I don't think-!" Ella's eyes were going round with apprehension, "Claire, no! No, Claire! No!" she complained as I grabbed my tray in one hand and her wrist in the other. She was protesting, trying to unclamp my hand from hers. Ella was painfully shy and I felt like a bit of a bitch dragging her along but no way was I going to leave her sitting there like a complete loner.  
"Hey guys," I noticed my pleasant voice didn't sound forced, which was a shock. "This is Ella. She was the first person I made friends with." I add the last bit as a guilt trip. They know they somehow failed me by not intercepting me before I got into contact with "unnecessary" humans and therefore Ella has become my form of Stiles except I'm not dating her and hopefully she'll never find out about me. "Do you find if we sit with you?"  
"Not at all," Erica practically purred. "In fact, you can tell me all about your little romance with Isaac."  
Boyd grinned at Isaac who smirked at me. Ella raised an eyebrow at me, but I stamped on her foot. A clear message: keep your mouth shut. Wincing slightly she sat down next to Boyd and I did the coupley-thing of sitting next to Isaac. I banged my tray down so hard it rattled. Ella gives me a look. I can tell what she's saying. I need to relax. I'm too tense.

I'll admit it, okay. I don't want to blow it.

Isaac doesn't reach for my hand at first. He's too focused on the bag of chips in his hand to notice me. But without any real planning, I find our skin connecting. I don't even know how it happened. I was talking to Boyd and Ella and then I can feel the light contact of his skin, tracing over the word 'believe' on my wrist.  
Boyd nudged Erica, "You see, I told you. Only people who love each other pretend to hate each other." I want to tell him to shut up, but that would ruin the plan and would mean I'd only have four hundred bucks. Maybe it was worth it, or maybe, secretly, I wanted to be with Isaac.

No, definitely not.

"Yeah, but are you going to fool Laura?" Erica asked Isaac bluntly.  
"What?" I babble.  
Boyd and Erica exchange a look. Isaac gives them a pissed-off glare. Obviously they weren't supposed to mention that little something. "_What?_" I demand.  
"Isaac kind of told Laura about you ages ago," Erica confirmed, "Well, not _you_, but he did say he had a girlfriend. So, you guys have got – what? – a few days to prepare."  
I whirl on Isaac and hit him so hard he almost falls off his chair. "Idiot!" I howl and punch him again, pronouncing each insult clearly, "Idiot! Dumbass! Moron! Asshole! _Jerk!_" Erica is in fits of uncontrollable laughter and Boyd is giggling. Ella is close to tears, she's laughing so hard. I've never seen my friends so happy. But I can't join in their happiness because I'm freaking out. We've got dates to memorize, inside jokes to create, shared interests (not that we have any) to go over, arguments to flesh out.

I wonder if I kick him in the nuts now, would that be classed as domestic violence?

"Calm down." Isaac's trying to seem serious but he's suppressing a laugh and when he hugs me, his shoulders vibrate. "There, there."  
I can't help but smile too. Yes, Isaac is a dumbass. Yes, we've got a few days to pull the wool over the eyes of the Alpha's big sister but for the first time in what seems like years, I feel like I belong.  
Tears well in my eyes. I'm choked with emotion. I grasp onto him like a lifeline and he freezes. "Thank you." I murmur like a child and he softens against me, melting like butter.  
"For what?" he asks gently.  
"For being my friend," I drop my voice so only he can hear, "Don't think this changes anything f.y.i, your still a dick and I hate you..." my voice is louder, "But, I haven't had one of those before."  
"You do now." The voice surprises me. I look at Ella, who has spoken. The trio that has formed: Erica, Boyd and Ella are all grinning.  
"Come on, guys," Boyd says cheerfully, "School blows. Let's go have some fun!"  
Erica's eyes are like fire, "Hell's yes!"


	7. 7: The Pack's Secret (not) Lair

**Thanks for all the reviews guys :D sorry for all the swearing and innuendos in my fanfics, but it's part of Isaac and Claire's personalities to curse alot and most of the chapters are done from their perspective. Plus I wanted to capture real conversations between teenagers, not the toned down versions. **

**Anyway, here you go, hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Isaac**

Okay, so we skipped school but what do you expect? We're _werewolves. _Well, 80% of us are and the other 20% add on is courtesy of our favorite little shit.

Believe me, if I'd had anyone else to ask, I would have. But Erica and Boyd are dating and I don't want to go out with a human. The very thought makes me sick to my stomach. That left Claire my only option. But the kid's a bitch. If there had been anyone else, I would never have even told Claire. She was finding it hilarious. I could tell by the gleam in her eye when I forced my hand into hers. She flinched away from me, but I squeezed her towards my chest. I hoped Erica couldn't smell how tense we both were because if Erica could, that meant Laura would definitely be able to tell.

After we buy ice creams, Erica, Boyd and Ella dance away and I distract Claire. "You see that?" I say, pointing down an alleyway shadowed by two buildings. "Look, over there?"  
"I can't see anything," Claire mutters but she follows my finger in the direction I'm pointing and starts walking. I roll my eyes. What an amateur mistake to make.  
I yank her by the shoulders, and slam her against one of the concrete walls. Her head snaps back and hits the brick. I smell blood. I try to ignore it but she's shrieking like a mad woman. "What the _fuck_?! You _dick_! Get the hell away from me!" Her claws extend and I can see her eyes glowing, becoming as florescent as strobe lights.  
I dig my own fingernails deeper into her shoulders. "Stop being so prudent," I chastise, "What are you even afraid of?"  
"Well, how about the fact that every time I try to get close to you, you end up attacking me, asshat!" she snarls and I drop her.  
She swipes at her shoulder as if wiping away invisible pieces of dust. I scan her over. "You're afraid, aren't you?" I conclude. "Afraid of being with someone."  
"No," she responds, her eyes lighting up again, "I'm not. I just don't want to be with _you." _  
The words sting. "Fuck you." I spit, "You are scared. You're scared shitless otherwise you wouldn't flinch when I touch you."  
"Okay," she says, her face pulling into a frown. "So, I'm scared of intimacy. Who cares? You're paying me six hundred bucks for this, remember?"  
"Which is why we need to talk about this…" I begin, leaning my head against the far wall. Why did Erica have to go putting ideas in Laura's head that my girlfriend is goddess-standard? Claire's more like Fenris.  
"About how to fool Derek's sister?" she asks me gently. She sucks in a breath before sighing, "Okay….so, how do we pass a werewolf lie detector?"  
I roll my shoulders. Thinking for a moment. "We've got to smell like each other." I say automatically.  
"Okay, so, what? I bring some stuff over to keep at…wherever the hell you live?" having girl stuff in my room doesn't exactly sound thrilling but I nod anyway. "Clothes? Toiletries? That kind of thing…"  
"We need to touch each other - hold hands…" I add innocently.  
She rubs at her eyes, blinking away weariness. "She can hear our heartbeats, right?" – I nod – "So we've got to learn how not to kill each other all the time, then."  
I roll my eyes. "The _joy._"  
"We might even have to bump up our relationship status to frenemies…" she trails off and glares at me, "Or _acquaintances._"  
"Fine, but having each other's stuff isn't all," I say, "We'll have to go further. Rub off on each other."  
Her eyes go wide; "Piss off," she snarls, "No way in hell am I doing that with you!"  
What is she talking about? Sitting next to each other, hugging one another, maybe a little kissing on the side is no big dea-

Oh. _Oh. _

"Not like that, you moron," I roll my eyes, "I mean hug each other, just get your scent around me somehow."  
She appears displeased and her face is pulled into a scrutinizing look. "Good," she exhales, "So, when has this got to start?"  
"Like, _today_," I stress the words, "She's here on Sunday." The day after the full moon. It would have been better if she'd been here, to help the pack. Full moons are okay now we can control ourselves. No need to be locked up or chained down. Instead I can just sit on the couch and play on the Xbox until I accidently break the controller or Boyd beats me. But this moon it'll be different. We'll have the Kanima to contend with, plus the added threat of the hunters. Laura's being trying to reason with them because Derek is too stubborn and proud to back down. But she's struggling and they're pretty hell-bent on killing us all. Luckily they don't know about the DeVoue Manor, our current place of residence (which is owned by Laura), but daren't think what they'll do when they eventually find us.

I look at Claire and weird sense of protectiveness fills me.

Claire rolls her eyes at me. "You're an idiot, you know," the side of my mouth pulls into a smirk. Believe me, I know I'm an idiot. She's said it enough times these past four days I'm starting to believe it myself. "So, I'll stay at your house tonight. I'll tell my mom I'm at Erica's and hopefully she won't find out where Erica actually lives." She cringes as if the thought is utterly unbearable. "Warn Derek, fyi, and Stiles – I'm guessing he's around there a lot."  
I give her a lazy salute, "Yes ma'am."  
"Shut up!" she grins, flashing me her canines.  
We stand in awkward silence for a moment. The alleyway is beginning to smell too heavily like us, and I know it's time to move on. If there are any other werewolves in Beacon Hills – which I doubt but Derek is _convinced_ – then they'll be able to catch our scent and follow it. My sour ginger and lemon smell and Claire's…crap, I don't even know what she smells like.  
I walk over to her and inhale the air around her throat. She gives me a wide eyed look but doesn't question. "Chocolate," I finally conclude. "Chocolate, strawberries and cream. How quaint."  
"Dude," she says in a low voice, "Kind of…personal."  
"Claire," I say for what feels like the thousandth time. "Laura going to be analyzing us, watching us _all of the time._ She's going to be asking questions, listening to our heartbeats, smelling us. This is going to _suck ass." _  
She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Why are boys such morons?" she asks herself, "Why couldn't you have just told her the truth?"  
"Because it's _Laura,_" I whine, "She's been trying to mate me for half a year now."  
"Whoa," Claire growls, "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not your mate, fucker. I'm your _girlfriend. _Not some sex toy."  
I want to contradict her, but causing any unnecessary arguments will just drive an even deeper wedge between us and however much I want to taunt her, I can't afford that right not. "I hate you so much, you know," her voice is low, barely audible. "If you had just left me alone-"  
"You'd be dead," I spit harshly. I move towards her and grab her by the arms, pulling her towards me. Her face is barely inches from mine and I feel like her eyes are two silver pools reflecting back at me like panes of glass. "So grow the fuck up. Yeah, you had a bad life, who cares? My dad used to kick the crap out of me; you don't see me moaning about it. You might think you're some useless piece of shit but you're not. People – people care about you. Your friend, Ella. Your mom. So stop acting like some helpless four year old."  
She shakes beneath me. What's going on? She never breaks her composure like this. "I'll bring some of my stuff around to your house, but when this is over, when you've convinced Laura - I never want you to speak to me again. I don't care if we're in the same pack. Just – don't…" she trails off. I don't care about her words, what stuns me is that she hasn't exploded yet. Her silent, quavering voice is what terrifies me.

Have I broken her? Have I overextended the will power on my new plaything and snapped her like a cheap piece of plastic? I hate to think so, but she doesn't talk to me when we find the others or when we go to Pizza Hut. She just sits there, pushing the delicious food around on her plate and pretending to be happy.

**Claire**

"I'm staying at a friend's house tonight," I declared as I traipsed through the door. My mom was sat at the kitchen table, a bag of chips and dip leaning up against a stack of paper work that she was currently sorting through. Her glasses hung loosely off her nose and her hair was pulled back into a stiff ponytail as she scanned the pages in front of her.  
Mom looks up from her work, beaming with pride. "Oh honey!" she says as I bend down and kiss her forehead. "That's wonderful."  
"Calm down, mom," I say modestly, "It's only so we can get this project finished in time for tomorrow."  
"Is it that lovely girl you told me about?" my mom asks quizzically, "Ella?"  
"No," I sigh. I wish it was Ella, I really do. I had loads of fun with her and I'm sure the pack did too, even Isaac who refuses human contact most of the time. _Isaac. _I dig my nails into my hands until my palms ache, fingertips elongating into claws. The twinge of pain gives me an odd sense of relief. "Erica. She's a- she's my lab partner."

Lies. Lies. More lies. I'm going to get trapped in a spiral of them if I'm not careful.

Smudge is sat on the table, next to the bag of chips. He glares at me, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. My eyes flash and I pull my lips back into a snarl. The cat scampers. Mom shoots me an exasperated look. "Maybe you being away tonight might actually give the cat a chance to finally relax."  
"Oh come on, he hates me!" I smirk at my mom and kiss her again before trotting upstairs. "See you later, mom!" I sprint up the stairs and push open my door.  
My bedroom is the usual pit it is and I'm seriously surprised mom hasn't yelled at me yet. There are dirty clothes and towels piled up against a corner of the wall. Personal items are strewn everywhere; books hanging off the edges of shelves and sometimes not stacked at all; my school textbooks eclipse most of my desk space and my mascara wand is lingering unchecked on my history thesis. I curse and try to wipe away the blot of black make-up.

For someone who moves around so much, you might think I would have condensed a little, but I can't help it. I like having possessions, okay? So, shoot me because I still have stuffed animals on my bed and stickers decorating my notepads. I don't know, maybe it's to make up for my own crappy childhood.

I grab a duffel bag from one of the boxes I am still yet to unpack and think hard about things that smell like me, that I can afford to keep there. I'll be staying over a lot in the run up to the full moon – though I haven't told mom yet – and I'll need things to be there that I can find easily. I rummage through my barely filled closest and plucked out a handful of t-shirts. T-shirts are what I live on a part from the odd dress here and there. My t-shirts come in all ranges from graphic, to comedic, to multicolored ones, to ones with animals on. I grab a couple of t-shirts that don't fit me, seeing as I don't have any pajamas. God, now _that_ was going to be embarrassing. I would have to busy some. I grab a battered leather jacket hanging off the rail and shove that in there, as well as about half a dozen hoodies in blue, red and black and even some cardigans. I have w_ay _too many clothes.  
I toss a pair of Converse and sneakers in. I rip open one of my draws and toss in sweat pants plus some jeans that are frayed and scuffed at the edges. Finally, I move to the last draw. A challenge I was inevitably going to have to face: underwear.  
Because for one, all my underwear was slightly skimpy (no one ever sees, therefore I am not a slut) but I didn't like the thought of these lying around in the Hale house. I blanched at the thought of Isaac ever seeing them.  
Carefully, I picked up a couple of pairs of knickers and some bras for the journey. I tried to go for the most modest of them. I ducked into the back and reached for a couple of socks – all types: neon, black, white, multicolored, patterned, the works. I don't screw around when it comes to socks.

I glanced around my room for personal belongings. I made for my laptop – I still had a couple of essays to start and it would give me an excuse for using up their Wi-Fi at Isaac's expense. I also stuffed a few toy animals in there because, screw maturity and also because Isaac had told me to get my smell around him and these things absolutely reek of me.  
I grab a stack of paperbacks from my bookshelf. Then I run into the bathroom and come back with a handful of shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, unused soap and other toiletries. I shove my make-up in plus all my school books I'll need for the next day. I grab my notebook of ideas plus my IPod and I'm all set to go.

I spin on my heel and take a long look around my bedroom. If I had known this would be the last time I'd be seeing it for a while maybe I would have made a bigger effort to say goodbye to my mom and my home but instead, oblivious to any danger that was to come, I spun on my heel and stamped out the door – stomper boots sounding like gunshots against the hardwood floor.

I was approaching the gated entrance to the DeVoue manor when Erica rang me. I debated ignoring it for a moment, seeing as I was almost there but then I told myself I was being stupid and forced myself to answer.  
"Hey loser," Erica greeted cheerfully. I strained to hear her over the noise in the background. "Where are you?"  
"Just coming up the drive," I had to shout to be heard. I frowned at the phone and started yelling again, "Why does it sound like you're under fire?"  
"Apparently I live in a fraternity house," she responded as the sound of gunfire, swearing and shouting heightened.  
"We're training!" four voices snapped in what seemed like perfect unison. I could practically feel Erica rolling her eyes down the other end of the phone.  
"Train yourself to do some laundry!" she called back to them. "So, how far-? Never mind, I can see you now!" she called cheerfully.

**Stiles**

I swung the door open to find Claire facing the house, staring up in awe at the three-storey farmhouse. It wasn't that impressive – a bit shabby and simple from the outside but the pioneer-style cabin was large enough to house the four current residents that lived there with plenty of extra room for visitors. There were six bedrooms in total. Erica's, Isaac's, Boyd's and Derek's (which I shared with him often) and two guest bedrooms that would soon be occupied by Claire – who would be staying overnight to help Isaac with something (bow chika wow-wow) and Laura – the house's proprietor.  
The original building had burned down during the Salem witch trials – even though we were nowhere near Salem. The locals had been superstitious and scared witless of every single little thing but – considering the Hale lineage stretched back centuries – maybe they had been right to be terrified of what goes bump in the night.  
Anyway, as soon as she'd laid eyes upon it, Laura had fallen instantly in love and despite Derek's protests, she'd hooked the pack in on her scheme and had done all her own renovations forking out a couple hundred grand from the family's life insurance.  
Now it actually was a home, even if Derek spent as much time away from it as possible. He had a job now, sort of. He wrote articles on climate change – of all things – for some top-notch newspaper. It was an ideal job for Derek. He could work from home without having to interact with people (which was a big no-no) the only thing he had to worry about was deadlines but I kept him on track.  
"Are you going to stand there all day or are you coming in?" I called from the porch, leaning against the doorframe. I could tell what she was thinking. The house looked like it belonged on a Louisianan plantation rather than slap bang in the middle of California. The rosebushes under the leaded glass windows cast strange shadows against the old brick work in the late evening light and the old oak trees made the DeVoue house look antique and stately even if the inside was a totally different story.  
Claire appeared to shake herself out of her dreary state. "Yeah," she yelled back to me, "On my way up."  
The Pack probably smelled her before she got here because for the last five minutes two out of three of them have been making an effort to tidy the place up a bit. The DeVoue manor always looked like a pig sty but with Jackson and the hunters to worry about, the household had been thrown into a state of disrepair, but I loved every treated inch of it. Even Derek's pinched face at the window as he scrolled through the books on his shelves, grasping for information about our deadly new threat.  
The screen door creaked as I opened it and soon I was leading her through the hall and into the living room, where the sound was emitting. Isaac, Boyd and Scott where splayed across the twin set of couches, controllers in one hand and effortlessly grabbing handfuls of Doritos from a large bowl in the center of the coffee table. Scott was leaned forward in his seat with a determined look on his face, as Boyd waved a huge hand in front of his face to distract. Isaac lay casually across the second couch; tapping away at controls and yelling swear words whenever someone on the screen shot at him. "What the hell, man?" he flailed as Scott's avatar flung a knife at Isaac's avatars head.  
Derek entered the room, rolling his eyes at their immaturity. He briefly scanned his book case before plucking a thick, leather bound chronicle from the middle of the top shelf and returning to the kitchen that seemed like a more peaceful choice.  
"Move over, asshole." Claire sighed, shoving Isaac's feet from off the edge of the couch.  
"You move over, moron." He replied without glancing away from the screen.  
"If I wanted my own comeback, I would have wiped it off your mom's chin."  
I bit back a laugh. They really were perfect for each other. Isaac reached across and smacked her across the back of the head. Claire elbowed him in the solar plexus so hard he almost dropped the controller. I smiled at Derek when I caught his eye before returning to the hall to lock the door.  
As soon as I entered the hall, I could sense something was off and I wasn't talking about the crappy music blaring from Erica's room. I went over to one of the windows and stared out.  
There, on our front lawn, were about half a dozen hunters plus a face I recognized. Allison.  
"We're just here to talk," Chris Argent called, stepping forward a step. I kept my eyes trained on his gun. "We want to call a ceasefire. Is Laura here?"  
I thought about lying but that might just make the situation worse. "No," I said cautiously, "And I doubt you'll get anything out of Derek. Come back on Sunday."  
"Please, Stiles," Allison begged, "There's not much time- look, let us in or we'll have to take other means."  
"What-?" I began, but then Scott appeared next to me and pushed me backwards into the house. "Stiles, get Derek, _now._ And tell the others to meet us in the kitchen, ASAP. Can you do that?"  
I nodded, not letting my eyes leave the hunters into the very last moment. I turned into the living room to find three werewolves already on high alert. "What is it?" Boyd demanded.  
"Trouble," I replied, "Big time."


End file.
